The Full Circle Six (9 page)

“Is not for talking. Is for being trapped,” he warned the medical operator. “You leave now. Is not for pleasures. Is for pain and lonlies.”

“I'll have you know that I have been able to make many repairs on this racecraft thanks to this man that you say is meant for pain.” Priscilla caught Bruvold's eye in a fierce glare that forced him back a step. She then left the area and proceeded to the medical quarters to make a few more minor repairs.

Bruvold glowered through the chamber door at the prisoner. He could see nothing out of place, but still demanded that Uciferi stand back against the wall while he performed a search of the small cell, and the small man. It was a quick and pointless process that left Ouldsid dejected and ashamed. Bruvold had found nothing to warrant any further suspicion, so advanced to the consuming quarters to get food and drink for the incarcerated.

Drake found Kraus just finishing the last bite of a large chunk of meat wrapped in a cocoon of bread. He nodded to Sammy and Juhaen, who were also just finishing their food, but still savoring the heat of the coffee. Drake indicated to Kraus that he needed to speak with him, and escorted the weapons operator to the main corridor so they would be alone.

“Know what this is?” The captain could barely contain his excitement as he asked his loyal crewman, holding out the ice capsule.

“Looks like an egg,” Kraus answered. “Maybe from an ice-bird.”

“Amusing, double k,” Drake still couldn't resist grinning at Kraus as he continued. “It's an ice capsule. One that Ced Oblize would use.”

“Wow, no kidding?” Kraus was now just as elated as Drake. “Now we can have two special weapons, that's amazing!”

“I'm going to need you and Bruvold to make a cannon to fire it with. I'm sure you won't have a problem finding materials for an ice cannon,” Drake said, still looking bemused. “You're also going to have to tell Bruvold about it. Apparently, I cannot get the point across. He keeps telling me the thing will melt.”

Kraus laughed heartily at this and walked away from Drake to the coffee delivery tube in this overly nice personal space. He was thinking about how brilliant it was that Drake had found such a rare extravagance. He would explain to Bruvold the point, Kraus reassured Drake. Then, thinking of more coffee, he returned to the consuming quarters to get another cup before going back to work liberating the craft.

At the same time as Bruvold exited the consuming quarters with bread, meat and coffee, Sammy and Juhaen were suiting back up to resume the flame-throwing fun. Kraus had just come back in, and Drake had followed for his own fresh cup. Juhaen, looking at Sammy, thought that he really looked as if he were having a good time. It was not so much fun for the little maintenance and sanitation regulator. The pack was heavy, and holding the tube up was starting to make his arms and shoulders sore. He was determined, however, to finish the job without quitting, like Freddie obviously had. As he thought of Freddie, he realized that he had not seen the E.F.O. since they had all come back inside for the required coffee break that the captain had ordered. Juhaen had been the one to tell Freddie about the break, but had not waited around to see if he actually came back into the ship. It was still very cold out there, even with the protective thermal gear and space suit.

Juhaen was racing through the loading corridor to catch up with the rest of the fire crew when a vibration shuddered through the racecraft, bringing with it a very warm wave of energy. It was not powerful enough to call a tremor, but was certainly noticeable to everyone inside the racecraft. It grew to be more detectable to the crew when they all felt the number thirteen jar itself loose and begin to slide to the left, slowly at first, gradually increasing speed till it felt like they might have been back in the race. The movements of the craft were felt a great deal more than would have been if they had been flying through space. They slowed much more rapidly than they accelerated. It was all over in a matter of seconds, but on the inside, it felt like it could have been several minutes.

Freddie, after everyone had gone back inside, had continued to pour his fuel around the perimeter of the racecraft. He was using more than primarily planned, but the extra work, he thought, would be worth it. Somehow, Freddie had gotten the idea that if he were able to rescue them all from this predicament. Priscilla would then have to see what a great guy he was and fall for him as hard as he had for her.

The lack of wind on this ice-planet is the reason Freddie's plan was as effective as it turned out to be. While the fuel had lain on the surface of the ice, the fumes had lingered around the area the entire time. When Freddie finally managed to get a spark from the device Drake had fastened to the shoulder pad of the pack's strap, the fumes had collected enough to create a fireball that engulfed the ship. The actual fuel was still on the ice surface and soon it caught the flames and torched a circle of fire, melting away at the base all around the racecraft. This changed the surface of the planet to accommodate a makeshift slide of sorts just perfect for the size of the craft.

At the ascent of the fireball, the startled Freddie screamed and fell to his knees with his arms crossed above his head, hands cradling his ears, eyes squeezed tightly closed. Hearing more than seeing the ship slide, Freddie's eyes flew open and panic seized his heart. He was petrified with sheer terror. Freddie's brain was screaming at him to get moving, but his response system was lost in the throes of perfect fear. Adrenaline pumped through his veins faster than his blood, or so it seemed to him. The crew was on that racecraft, and sir Frederick Stallworth may have just unconsciously committed mass homicide. Finally, he witnessed the transport slide to a halt and his paralysis broke as if he were snapping out of a trance. There might have even been a perceptible click when it happened.

He jumped to his feet and sprinted, as well as he could in the space suit, toward his team and their recently dislodged racecraft. He was not coordinated by anyone's standards, as Freddie kept slipping and falling to the ground, while flailing his arms spastically. Turning around the front of the craft, he was making his way to the loading zone in order to receive his congratulations for saving them all when, there appeared on the ground, in front of the door, a rectangle of light. Someone couldn't wait, it seemed to Freddie to give him his dues, and they were coming out to meet him. His moment of self-righteousness was short lived, his smile faded and his posture drooped to a slouch. Fear worked its evil clutches into his brain once again. Drake Judge had marched out of the racecraft and was coming straight for him.

Drake forcefully grasped the front of Freddie's suit and literally threw him into the loading zone and supply area. Then he followed the flying Freddie, who landed heaped up like a pile of potatoes in a corner, close behind. Drake roughly snatched up his E.F.O. and screamed into his visor.

“Are you trying to kill us all? What was that?” Drake looked more furious than Freddie had ever seen him.

“Sir, I had to try to get us out. Is everyone ok? It worked! I can't believe it worked!” Freddie was lost in euphoria of daydreams in which Priscilla finally saw him as a hero and fell madly in love with him.

He was abruptly snapped away from his lovely distraction by a knock to the head from Drake. Despite Drake's venting and scolding, the captain was, in truth, more ecstatic than he could remember being in some time. They were free from the ice, thanks to this incompetent fool who had endangered their existence.

“Get to your personal quarters, and if I see your face, or even hear your voice, before I call for you, I'm locking you up in isolation,” Drake said, though not as sharply as he had been speaking. Freddie rushed to obey the commander's orders. Through the partition that served as his door, he could hear Bruvold bellowing from the storage and loading zone.

“Is no good … I tell you already. I tell captain. Cannon is breaking ice … fire is melting. Always, is no good for weapon,” he complained to Kraus.

“Your right,” conceded the weapons operator. “Even if we made it from ice, we don't have the components necessary to fire the capsule. I'll break the news to cap.” Kraus was weary of talking to Bruvold, whose vocabulary was quite limited. He took his leave to find Drake and find out what happened to the ship.

Kraus came upon Drake and Sammy in the navigational command center. Sammy was just telling his friend that he could repair the shields in less than one day, but the interior of the racecraft would take more than two, with all of them working together. This was one crew that had adapted to each other so smoothly it was as if they had been together from the beginning of the season, instead of just the start of the race. While they repaired the number thirteen transport, the crew meshed and collaborated with each other the way a swarm of bees will do when trying to restart a colony.

Freddie followed Priscilla around, wanting to help her with any task just to be near, which wasn't unusual. What was strange was the fact that the medical operator did not seem to mind as much as before, rather seemed to appreciate the company, and the many compliments. Juhaen and Sammy developed an unlikely friendship while doing repairs together and strategizing new ways to convert energy to shield power. Jaws had reappeared at some point no one could approximate. Most didn't even know he hadn't been around for the fiery cataclysm. Bruvold kept Uciferi alive, but miserable. Kraus and the captain, when not making minor repairs inside, tried to construct the ice cannon anyway and, after many failures, resigned to attempting to fix more delivery dispenser tubes.

Within three days, they were congregated in the navigation quarters and ready to leave this horrible ordeal behind them. Opting to launch manually, as opposed to the standard they had been following, Drake took control of the racecraft once again and put as much distance as he could between themselves and the wasteland of frost that had come so near to destroying any chances of them winning the Full Circle Six, and, more notably, their lives. He was determined to win this race at all costs. Sacrifices would have to be made, as the only delivery dispenser tubes that could be fixed were the coffee and meat distributors and the reserve fuel was severely depleted, which might force another unplanned stop in the future. If Drake didn't win, he was tenacious in his resolution to sacrifice his own life in the effort to do so.

Pulling away from the planet, Drake was tempted to turn around and blow it to pieces, but he was already very agitated and irritable from losing so much time, yet again, just when it looked like he would do something right… yet again. When he felt he was far enough away, he dismissed himself to his personal quarters to look through his gazers. After finally entering the room, sleep overpowered Drake, as so many bullies do to those smaller and weaker than themselves, and he could do nothing but aim for his resting module while he slowly toppled like a tree that's been cut at its base.

Sammy took command without having to be told and set course. He ordered maximum power to engines and also used a trick that he and Juhaen had learned. This trick of the system allowed them to convert shield to engine boosters, and take power from other back up secondary programs that were not currently in use to put back into the shields so that they would never have to lose a shield. The number thirteen was now the fastest racecraft in competition, and they needed to be if they wanted to catch up to the rest of the racers.

“We've been through a lot lately,” Sammy addressed the crew. “But we pulled out of it stronger and faster than we were when we started this run. The captain has been under quite a bit of stress, as have we all. I'm all for getting us into a good position by the time he gets back. Are you all with me?”

The race crew all nodded in silent agreement and went to work putting into effect Drake's old plan of firing a massive shot of energy power into the engines that would give them an incomparable burst of speed in addition to the incredible rate they were traveling at the moment. The way that this differed from the captain's plan is they couldn't use as much power because nobody could navigate like Drake Judge. They would, however make up the three days lost on the planet.

During the week after launching from the miserable ice world with no sun, Freddie thought he might lighten things up by singing one of his favorite songs over the racecraft intercom, while on break. The song rang out in an illustrious tone.

“My beauty lies over the ocean … my beauty spreads throughout spaaace … my beauty is like a good potion … Just look at my beautiful faaace.”

Drake was none too pleased and told Freddie that if he didn't stop using the intercom for his own personal pleasure, he was going to lock him up alongside Uciferi.

Meanwhile, Bruvold was verbally abusing the E.F.O to anyone who would listen. “I am telling he is girl … He is wearing dresses. He is small like girl. He is talking like girl and he is singing like girl. He is no man. He is girl.” Freddie became a little sullen at Bruvold's remarks and spent the rest of his break in his own quarters. The minute Freddie reseated himself at his station after break another complex situation arose.

“There are two racecrafts battling just out of range in the next quadrant,” reported Jaws.

“Tell me who it is when we get in range. Get it up on my screen. We might be able to go around both of them unnoticed.” Drake didn't want to jump into a battle with two racecrafts so quickly after making a stop. They might both gang up on his vessel, damaging it to the point of making repairs again.

“Neither one of them is going very fast. We have the number two craft and the number eleven craft. There's a lot of cannon fire.” Jaws let out a yawn. It was supposed to be his break now.

“The number two belongs to Boxton … I'm not sure about the eleven.” Drake knew the number two craft all too well, it was his rival, Boxton Oblize, and his racecraft special weapon was some sort of device that immobilized all main engine power and weapons in range, but their own. Drake was thinking that Boxton would be too involved with his current battle to pay any attention, either way he intended to go past two positions right here. If he fled past Boxton, and stayed in front of him until the end of the race, he would gain overall points on the current leader. This made Drake wide-awake with thoughts of winning the championship. At once, he engaged manual control and began to steer his way up and over the fight, with his heart pounding. He was going to try and take a diagonal route to the quadrant above, while passing the two crafts.